Touchstone
by Angie63
Summary: Dean can't sleep and when Cain shows up in the bunker, there's trouble.


Sam woke up with a start. What time was it? He fumbled for the watch he'd placed on the nightstand last night, or was it this morning? Judging from the fact that he was still fully dressed and on top of the covers, early this morning. Seven. Seven a.m. or p.m.? He was so tired he wasn't sure. He sat up and raked his fingers through his hair. He felt he was failing. How could the Men of Letters have the vast information they did on every sort of evil and virtually nothing on the mark of Cain? Sam had spent weeks investigating every possible lead in the research the Letters had compiled, any mention. Last night he'd even stayed up watching a silent film called _The Mark of Cain_ starring Lon Chaney hoping to find _anything _ that might be useful. He'd read the account in Genesis so many times he could recite the passages if asked to. It differed from the story Cain told Dean so it wasn't very useful. Still, he read it over and over. Dean was not getting better despite his best efforts. Not that he'd been violent, just the settling of a _darkness_ Sam didn't like. Despite Dean's proclaiming a need to work and even displaying a fair amount of cocky, light hearted Dean-ness, Sam feared there was something up. Dean retreating into himself again. Nightmares that were worse and more frequent than after Dean returned from Hell. Sam wondered if something had happened, had been said between Cain and Dean. He just had the familiar feeling his brother was perhaps, hiding something.

He sighed and got up. He wondered if Dean was awake yet. No familiar aroma of coffee filled the bunker. Sam needed coffee. Badly. He walked to the kitchen, stopping to look in Dean's room. It was empty. And spotless. The bed was made to a military precision John Winchester would have rewarded. No clothes littered the floor. All the empty cups and fast food bags, disappeared. Fear crept in as Sam moved to the closet. He was afraid to open it, to find the green duffle missing. Gingerly, he placed a hand on the knob and opened the door. He breathed a slight sigh of relief when he again found pristine order. Shirts lined up, boots arranged neatly, the duffle there on t he floor. Sam chided himself for worrying, for being afraid constantly Dean would disappear again. But where was he? Sam closed the closet and resumed his trek to the kitchen. Here again he found order . No dishes in the sink. Light literally bounced off each surface it was so clean. The fear crept in again. Not that Dean didn't keep the kitchen clean. It had always been his responsibility growing up and second nature to him but this was different. Sam managed to start a pot of coffee before checking the other rooms in the bunker. No Dean to be found and extreme….order every where. What the hell? The books Sam had left strewn across the table, all stacked, neatly, with markers holding their places. His laptop and tablet were powered off , placed side by side. A quick glance around showed every area Sam could look at equally _clean._ Sam forced down the panic he felt and returned to the kitchen. He had to have some caffiene before dealing with whatever he needed to concerning Dean._ Where the hell is he?_

Dean was in fact in the bunker. In the basement garage to be exact. He'd tossed and turned for a couple of hours and decided to just get up. One glance at his room gave him an opportunity for creating order out of chaos. He spent a good forty five minutes tidying up in there. He'd gone to the kitchen in search of a snack and if he were honest a shot of Jack. The mess in there created another distraction, a purpose...something he could really fix. Seldom was their kitchen such a mess but he'd restored it to a state that would have passed Dad's inspection with flying colors. Adrealnaline had kicked in at that point so he'd straightened up the library and the map 'd attacked the bathroom and the shower room with equal energy. It was amazing how fast a night passed when you just stayed busy. He'd finally poured the shot of jack and downed it. He'd pulled a beer from the fridge and wandered down into the depths of the bunker, wondering if he'd be able to find anything new in the archives in the really "weird" section of the files. Before he made it to the door of the dungeon, he paused and turned left into the garage. Switching on the lights, he stepped in and stood there looking at the cars parked there. There were five in all plus Dorothy's motorcycle. Beautiful classic cars, none as beautiful as Baby of course, but appealing all the same. Because it was still technically everyone else's night and because he still needed to be busy, he undertook to wash and detail the vehicles in their charge. He started with Baby, lovingly washing and cleaning and waxing her, talking to her as he did it. Anyone but Sam would have thought he was crazy but then Sam understood about Dean and the Impala.

He was halfway into the red Cadillac when it happened. _It's not going to help Dean. _Dean looked up from the soapy mess he was creating and there before him, as clearly as in the barn before he killed him was Cain.

"You're dead. You're not real.", he said with more bravado then he felt. How could it be Cain? Was this pure exhaustion? Had he fallen asleep? Was he dreaming?

_You're perfectly and fully awake. And it is me. None of your desperate attempts to get rid of me will work._ Dean blinked twice, ran a wet hand down his face. Great. Was this some freaky thing like Sammy seeing Lucifer? Was he going crazy?

"You're not real", he repeated. Real fear started to overcome him. He _knew_ he had killed Cain. He'd driven the blade in, watched Cain die. He'd pulled the blade out with almost superhuman strength before returning broken to Cas and Sam.

_I'm real Dean. You're trying to escape by staying busy. Doing little hunts, making a confession, oh yes I know what you confessed. But the simple facts remain the same. You won't get rid of it Dean. It will be as I said. First Crowley. No great loss, but you will struggle. Then it will be Castiel and you will begin to crumble, to be less Dean. It will hurt. But then it will be Sam. And Sam will be the undoing of Dean Winchester. Then you will just become...me._

"No! I will never kill Cas and I sure as hell will _never kill Sam . _Do you get that you son of a bitch? I am not planning on 'living your life in reverse.' I'll keep doing what I do til I can't anymore and then...I'll take care of the problem before Sammy and Cas have to." Cain smiled a sinister if somewhat compassionate smile. The First Knight moved towards Dean. Cold fingers enveloped his arm. just below the mark.

_Poor Dean. You'd like to think that. You and your wonderful Winchester courage. Braver than John, more self sacrificing than even Sam. Blind faith in your loved ones just like Castiel. The mark will not let you go Dean. You asked for it. You created this destiny. You were warned of the burden my son. Even with this last unpleasentness between us, I still care about you. You're not getting better Dean. Cas knows it, Sam knows it. The only one who needs convincing is you._

Dean felt rage, perhaps fueled by the mark rise in him. He wanted Cain gone. Was he a spirit? A demon? He reached for the first heavy object he could find, a hammer, and flung in the direction of Cain who merely ducked as it sailed across the garage. Dean lunged towards Cain whose laughter filled the garage as he simply disappeared. Dean stood there breathing deeply, fighting to stay conscious as a strange feeling surrounded him. Finally, the dizzy feeling subsided. The words though still played in this brain, like a loop. Rage, dark and terrible, anger , the desire to destroy something became his only desire. He felt a warm sort of pain in the mark. Rubbing his arm, he fought the dark thoughts, the anger. It wasn't helping. From somewhere in the bunker, he heard Sam calling him. _Dean! You down here?_ Sam. He could not be with Sam right now. Could not risk hurting his little brother. Better to turn the rage he felt on something else. He turned and slammed his fist into the windshield of the red car. The shield splintered. Dean pounded it again and again. He was unaware of the guttural growling sounds he was making as he destroyed the glass, unaware that he was cutting his hands, that he was bleeding profusely. All he knew was until he wasn't angry anymore, he could not stop.

Sam heard the strange cries, the breaking of glass and the sound of both filled him with dread. Reaching in his back pocket for his Taurus, he opened the door of the garage. Finding Dean alone but in a violent rage he hadn't seen anything the likes of put Sam in triage mode. He had to stop Dean before he hurt himself any further. There seemed to be blood everywhere close to Dean. "Dean!" he shouted. "Dean!" Dean didn't seem to hear him. Sam was afraid if he touched Dean, if he startled him too much things could get worse. Still. It was always Sam who calmed Dean down when he wielded the blade. Maybe he could talk him down out of this as well. He moved closer. "Dean. Stop!" His brother looked up and the lost, wild look broke Sam's heart. "Hey, hey, hey. It's okay Dean. It's okay. That's it", he said as Dean's hands dropped to his sides, blood running down in little pools on the floor. Sam moved slowly towards Dean, picking up he towel that lay on the hood of the car. It was damp but he could still use it to apply pressure. "It's okay buddy, " he reassured as some of the wild look left Dean's eyes. He reached out for Dean who's legs had begun shaking. In fact all of Dean appeared to be shaking. Sam grasped Dean's forearms to steady him. Gently he lowered Dean to the ground, leaning him up against the Cadillac. He took Dean's left hand in his, inspecting the damage. Several small cuts, two pretty deep ones. Nicks by the wrist. Sam reached in his pocket and pulled out a blue bandana. He wrapped it tightly around his brother's hand. The right hand was of more concern. A deep gash close to the wrist was pumping a steady stream of red and it looked as if the palm were nothing but blood. Sam took the towel he'd picked up and wiped the palm, It immediately filled back up with blood. Sam pushed the towel hard into Dean's palm. applied pressure with his left hand to the other cut. Dean was quiet, not seeming to register pain, breathing slowly and shallow. _Crap. Shock._

Sam realized he was in trouble here. He couldn't call for help. There was no way an ambulance would find the warded bunker. He saw Baby sitting there, ready to go. Springing to action Sam fumbled in Dean's pocket, hoping the keys were there. For some unknown reason, he knew his brother would have the keys on him. He opened the trunk, pulled out the first aid kit and returned to Dean. He wrapped Dean's palm in layers of gauze, taping it as tight as he could. He did the same to the other gash between the palm and wrist. he unwrapped the left hand and re wrapped it in gauze as well. Opening the garage door, Sam also opened the passenger side of the Impala. It would be better to put Dean in the back seat he reasoned but he wanted him close to him.

Sam pulled two blankets from the trunk and slammed it shut. He went quickly back to his brother. "Okay Dean. It's alright. We need to get you to the hospital." As he started to get Dean to his feet, his brother looked at him.

Sam?", he whispered. He was in pain and Sam was here but what had actually happened? He looked up glassy eyed. He wanted to clutch Sam but his hands hurt. Sam knelt beside him, ran a hand thru his hair.

"It's okay Dean. I gotcha. We have to get you to the hospital man. Don't fight me okay?" He gave Dean a tender smile.

"Okay", Dean whispered and closed his eyes. Sam patted his cheek.

Sam shook him very slightly. "Stay awake Dean. I need you to stay with me buddy. If I help, can you stand?" It would be tricky picking Dean up from here. Dean nodded and Sam sighed in relief. He slipped an arm behind Dean and scooped him to his feet. "That's good. Okay little steps." Dean's head fell forward on Sam's shoulder and he felt as if he were jello. "Dean. Stay with me man." Dean looked up. His brother needed him awake. He used every bit of strength he had left to walk with Sam to the car, still unclear on where they were headed and why. Sam placed him in the front seat, covered him with the blankets and hurried to the driver's side. He guided the Impala out of the garage, then jumped out to secure the doors again. Sliding in, he reached over to Dean. He pulled Dean down, putting his head in his lap. Dean didn't protest. Sam knew if he was anything close to normal Dean would have avoided being treated like a baby. The not protesting scared him.

"Sam?", Dean whispered but Sam heard him.

"Yeah Dean." He patted his brother's back.

"He was here." It was a statement. Sam glanced down at Dean .

He asked softly, "Who?" Dean closed his eyes again. "No. Dean, stay awake, who was here?"

Dean sighed. He wanted to just rest. "Cain". Sam tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Cain? In the bunker?

"Are you sure? Maybe you're just a little confused Dean." Thankfully, he had reached the ER parking lot. As he parked the car, Dean spoke could barely hear him and leaned closer.

"It was him. He said...no escape...become him...kill..." His eyelids fluttered and he lost consciousness.

Sam paced the length of the waiting room. They had taken Dean back to an exam room while Sam gave information to the nurses. He'd said Dean was washing the car and must have hit the fault line in the windshield by accident. Classic car, original glass...it seemed plausible and they were satisfied. Sam waited unsettled by what Dean had said, unclear if Dean had been hallucinating like he did with Lucifer or if Cain had really been in the bunker. Neither was good. Never had Sam wished more for Bobby to be alive as he had through this ordeal. Bobby could have been a real help with the mark of Cain.

"Sam?" he turned to see Susan, the nurse he'd spoken to earlier. "You can come back now." She led Sam down to the exam room where he found Dean, hands bandaged, an IV in his arm and oxygen helping him breathe.

"Is he okay?" Sam asked. He walked to the bed and laid his hand on Dean's head.

"He will be. He was suffering from shock but he's getting fluids. He has twelve stitches in his right palm, nine in his wrist. Eight stitches in his left palm. The rest of the cuts were superficial. There may be slight nerve damage to the right palm. They'll know later once it' s healed. The doctor had to do some subcutaneous sutures on it. He's on antibiotics just as a precaution. We'd like to admit him overnight for observation. Is that okay?"

Sam felt relief hit him like a brick. "Yeah. By all means.I don't want to take any chances." He looked down at Dean and felt tears gather in his eyes. Susan noted the relief in his eyes and wondered if these two were all each other had. The doctor said he'd had to reassure Dean several times that Sam was there to get through the stitches.

"I'll get the paperwork together and we'll get him moved upstairs." Sam stood there looking at Dean, feeling thankful he was going to be all right but fearful of what Dean had said. He stroked Dean's hair, more for his own comfort than Dean's and because he couldn't hold Dean's hands bandaged and hurt as they were. Good god, what could have caused Dean to smash glass with his bare hands like that? He stayed there , carding his hands through Dean's hair until S usan returned and Dean was taken to a new room.

It must have been mid afternoon when Dean started to rouse a little, whispering. "Sam." Sam had been dozing but he jumped to his feet. He stood over his brother looking down at him.

"Dean. Hey, I'm here." Dean opened his eyes and tried to reach a hand to Sam and seemed upset when Sam didn't take it. "It's hurt Dean. Stitches. Both hands dude. Gonna be a long week to ten days like that. What happened man, do you remember?" Dean tried to focus on answering. It was a little cloudy.

"I couldn't sleep. Woke up and started cleaning. Like everything." Sam smiled.

"I noticed." He wrapped his fingers around Dean's left wrist and Dean continued.

"Went to the garage and I thought, what the hell…", he winced as pain assaulted his hands. Sam pushed the call button.

When the nurse's station replied, Sam said, "He needs something for pain. Go ahead Dean"

Dean nodded. "Thanks Sam. So I decided to just wash all the cars, see what kind of shape they were in. And all of a sudden…." He trailed off as a nurse came in and added a painkiller to his IV. When he was sure she was out of earshot, he continued. "Cain, Sammy. Talking to me. Standing there. In the bunker."

Dean's breathing was agitated. Sam could feel his pulse speeding up. He rubbed Dean's wrist with his thumb. "Try to relax Dean. You're safe. Are you sure you weren't hallucinating?"

"Sam I'm not sure of anything anymore. But it _seemed_ real. The stuff he said, I..got..mad. Like hulking out mad Sam, Cain was just gone and I slammed my fist into the windshield and I …couldn't stop….Sam what the hell is wrong with me?" Tears filled his eyes as he looked up at his little brother. He felt out of control, scared, ashamed of being weak, all at the same time.

Sam struggled with the vulnerability in Dean's face. He sat down very carefully on the side of the bed. "Dean, I don't know. I'd give anything to take it away from you. I would. I do know this. When I was seeing Lucifer everywhere, you told me the pain in my hand was touchstone one, it was real. It helped me Dean. I'm not saying you should squeeze these wounds. They're too fresh. But you and me Dean? We're real. We're touchstone one. I think maybe , for awhile til this heals up, we should stick pretty close. I doubt Cain's gonna show around me. It's your head he's messing with." There were tears sliding down Dean's face. Sam wiped them away .Dean turned his cheek into Sam's hand. It never ceased to amaze him how much his brother needed physical touch. He never asked. He never had but he craved it. It made Sam sad to think how many times he and Dad just hadn't hugged Dean, hadn't realized how much he needed them. The only person who just hugged Dean without him being at death's door had been Bobby. When he was hurt he allowed Sam to be nurturing to him, accepted it, was grateful for it. Once he started feeling better, he was going to retreat back to _I'm fine Sam._ But for now, Sam was going to lavish affection and comfort on him.

Dean blinked as the pain killers started to take effect. "I want to go home." Sam chuckled_. Of course_.

"Not happening dude. You're here for the night. You were in shock from blood loss. You need IV fluids and real sleep Dean." He slipped a hand under Dean's neck and pulled him towards his chest, adjusted the pillows and gently laid him back down. Dean smiled, a foggy drugged smile. Something about the way Sam was acting, fixing pillows, pulling up covers reminded him of being at Bobby's house, the only place he'd ever called "home" before the bunker .Sleep was pulling him under . He fought it, partially afraid of nightmares, partially wanting to know Sam was there.

Sam caressed his hair again and Dean could not keep his eyes open. Sam waited a few minutes until he was sure Dean was asleep before getting up. He was about to return to his chair but stopped. He leaned close to Dean's ear. "You and me Dean. Touchstone one."

"Mmhmm." Dean mumbled. Sam pulled his chair closer to the bed. He was as tired as Dean. Forced to be in the hospital was a good thing he guessed, for both of them. Sam was still afraid of what could be ahead for the Winchesters. But he hoped as he leaned forward and put his head on his brother's hospital bed and started to fade into sleep himself that for just one night they could both just sleep.


End file.
